


We All Fall Down

by ch00se



Series: Tidbits [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alastair Is A Creepy/Protective Fuck, Dean Winchester Bears the Mark of Cain, Gen, Implied Alastair/Dean Winchester, M/M, This Is Extremely Intense, flashbacks of Hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 23:15:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5645380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ch00se/pseuds/ch00se
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Some people, even years after experiencing an especially traumatic event, the repercussions of it on their psyche can and will appear in their daily behaviour. Particularly if a person has recently been in contact with or has been made aware of situations wherein similar actions or events to their own trauma occurred. Any slight brush with any vaguely similar happenstance can severely set back any progress of a person to recover from their trauma."</p>
            </blockquote>





	We All Fall Down

_ring a ring o’ roses, a pocket ful of posies, a-tishoo! a-tishoo! we all fall down_

 

⚚

 

Dean smiles ( _bares his teeth_ ) at Castiel as he stares in confusion at the microwave. “But how will the molecules in the centre gain heat if only the external surface is pelted with the radioactivity?” He asks Dean, and Dean shrugs ( _is motionless_ ) because a) he doesn't know and b) he doesn't really care. The only reason he's having this conversation with Cas is because he had ( _not_ ) asked the sort of human to warm up the sandwich he'd made for breakfast and had ( _not_ ) forgotten to eat until lunch time.

 

“Do I look like I know?” Dean doesn't wait ( _never waits_ ) for Cas's penetrative gaze to settle on him, instead turning around to look back at the so far useless book he'd dug out of the archive in the bunker. It was some crap about the mark he'd already read ( _ingrained in his mind_ ), already knew, really, from what little Crowley had told him while he was a demon. Dean sighs and pushes the book away with his forearm. He can hear Cas sigh in tandem.

 

“Dean,” the man says, and when did Cas start sounding so hesitant and tentative towards Dean? It had always been, _show me some respect, and I raised you hell I can put you back_. Where had all of that gone ( _when_ )? “Dean I really think that you should-”

 

“-take a break, maybe go sleep for a while,” Alistair finishes, his sunken in eyes glinting. “I miss you Dean,” and Dean grins because this is familiar, this is good, this is something he knows. Dean stands from his chair and only then he realises Cas is shaking his shoulder.

 

“-ean, Dean!” The man’s voice is low and worried, and Dean blinks three times to clear the muck in the corner of his eye. “Dean, are you listening to me?” Dean slowly turns to face the man, Castiel, and sees exhaustion and bone deep stress echoed there.

 

“Yeah,” Dean says, and then again as if to reassure himself, “Yeah I'm fine.” He wiggles his shoulder to slide Cas's hand off of it ( _jerks back_ ) and ignores the demon in the corner of the room as he leaves.

 

⚚

 

_ring around the rosie, a pocket full of posies, ashes! ashes! we all fall down_

 

⚚

 

The feel of the aged photos in his ( _spasming_ ) hand is a small comfort. The joyous face of his mum smiles up at him, and Dean looks back at her. He flips through some generic photos of Dean's height, and then Sam at the hospital when he was born, Dean and his Dad, “He doesn't look too different now, Dean,” Alistair says in a reassuring voice, “Apart from the lack of flesh,” and then there's Dean holding ( _cradling, gripping, choking_ ) his baby brother Sam a few days after he was born. And there's his mum again. “She should really see a dermatologist about her skin,” Alistair says conversationally. Dean sees ( _can see, can't not see_ ) her cheek muscle stretching across her jawbone. He slams the photo down.

 

“What do you want Alistair,” he says, remarkably calm. The demon smiles at him softly.

 

“Just wanted to see how you were doing,” he says gently, pride lighting up his skinless face, “After all, my best student became a Knight! Is that not terribly exciting?”

 

“Dean.”

 

The bedroom door creaks open and one blue eye peeks through. “Dean, who are you talking to?” Dean looks ( _glowers_ ) at it with half of his face.

 

“No one,” he says defensively, and Cas stares at him with one eye until he speaks again. “I said no one. Can you please go?” The blue eyes retreats and Dean doesn't allow himself to feel bad ( _guilty, wicked, always damned_ ) about the way he spoke to Cas. Why'd the man have to interrupt anyway?

 

“Thank you Dean,” Alistair says gratefully, his voice low. Dean looks at him sideways and smiles ( _smiles_ ).

 

⚚

 

_ring a ring of rosies, a bottle full of posies, hush, hush, hush, hush, we've all tumbled down_

 

⚚

 

“Dean, listen to me. Both I and Sam are worried about you.”

 

Dean sits quietly.

 

“You haven't spoken to either of us in days, but I know you're talking, because I can hear you at night. So who are you talking to?”

 

Dean sits ( _is restrained_ ) quietly.

 

“You aren't deaf, I know you can hear me Dean.” Cas is suddenly quiet. “Please.”

 

Dean sits quietly only because his hands are tied behind his back.

 

“Please, Dean, I know you're in there somewhere, let me help, please, just tell me what's wrong I can _help_ you, so I can fix it.”

 

It's so quiet ( _noisy_ ) down here in the panic room. “Come on Dean,” Cas kneels down so they're eye level.

 

“Go on Dean,” Alistair says, smiling encouragingly.

 

“You don't have to suffer alone!” Cas says soberly. Dean sits there quietly. He would avoid ( _seek_ ) looking into the blue eyes except they keep blurring into inky blackness.

 

“What's the harm in telling him?” Alistair consoles Dean. “I mean, why not?”

 

“Is it here?” Cas suddenly rises, looking alert and going into a defensive stance. Alistair muffles a giggle.

 

“Look at him,” the demon says fondly, and Dean sits quietly ( _angrily_ ).

 

“Dean,” Cas is spinning every which way frantically trying to see what Dean sees but he can't, “Dean what's there, I can help you fight it, just tell me where it is, let me help you, please, _please_ let me help-” Castiel sucks in a breath and his raised arm quivers. “Let me help you,” he says shakily, looking for Dean’s eyes.

 

“No,” Alistair suddenly says with a hard voice and Dean sees him standing next to Cas. “No, _you_ don't get to ask that. Not when you left him alone, _I_ was the only one there! The only one!”

 

Cas clutches at his ears in silent agony. Dean sits quietly but only because he can't not. “You _all_ left him,” Alistair seethes, and Castiel falls to the floor, unable to protect himself against the onslaught. “But me? I stayed with him throughout it all. You don't _deserve_ him, Castiel.” Dean watches ( _examines_ ) Castiel reaching out to him pleadingly but Alistair steps in front of Dean to shield him.

 

“Please,” the man on the floor rasps, blood leaking out of his ears and from the corners of his eyes, trailing down his face in rivulets. “Dean, please. _Stop_ this. This isn't you.” Alistair bends down in front of Dean, obscuring his view, but Dean knows that he's snuffing out the last of man’s life with his hands. “Dean, stop,” the man begs one last time, before Alistair bends his neck to one side.

 

The demon stands back, admiring his handiwork, and Dean smiles at him. “Thank you,” Dean says, the first words he's spoken since getting down here. The demon grins lopsidedly and his eyes blur from black to green.


End file.
